Longing
by Jennie
Summary: A dream is a wish your heart makes. Linda/Leander. Pre-series.


**Title: **Longing

**Author: **Jennie

**Fandom:** Heir Series

**Characters:** Linda

**Rating: **PG-13

**Summary: **A dream is a wish your heart makes

**Prompt:** 3. illusion

**Disclaimer:** The characters are not mine. I am merely borrowing them and do not intend to make any profit.

**AN:** Written for the LJ Community 5_times. Takes place pre-series. Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated.

* * *

Her head hurt.

She squeezed her eyes shut, unwillingto face the morning. She fumbled for the pillow and seized a corner, pulling it over her head in an effort to block out the bright sunlight. She felt weird, hung over; although she knew she didn't drink _nearly_ enough to be as sick as she felt. Her limbs were sluggish and her mouth tasted strange, overly sweet, as if she had put too much sugar in a cup of tea.

_Last night_… She tried to remember what had happened, where she had been. There was the meeting with an informant, disguised as a date. She had tried to stick to wine, but she remembered Alec had insisted that she be more adventurous – that sticking with wine in that particular locale would just make her stand out. So she had ordered… She blinked hard, clutching the blankets as hard as she could, holding them over her head.

_What had she ordered_? Her hands were clammy and she felt hot and cold at the same time, feverish, yet somehow she knew she didn't have a fever. Hung over, feverish… she couldn't explain it, but somehow, she _knew_. The drink had been… pink, she remembered, and frothy. It tasted sweet, but not too sweet. Alec had passed her the information disguised as his phone number, and she had slipped into her pocket. They had left the bar together. Alec had been the perfect gentleman. He was a fellow enchanter, but one who had been placed in the service of a wizard as a child, and now was willing to doanything to bring down his cruel master. The wizard had attended a club nearby and so Alec had been allowed to wander – not too far – by him self. Their alibi of meeting up at a bar and hitting it off would stand up under closer examination.

But if things had gone well, why was she feeling so horrible?

She tried rolling over and laying on her back. The pain in her head was still as present as ever and she let out a low groan. Had they been caught? But if they had, she'd be locked up until Alec's wizard master could make sure she was unattached to another wizard and take her into his own service. She wouldn't be lying on soft sheets and under warm blankets. She _knew_ how wizards treated enchanters. There was definitely something amiss and it angered her greatly that she couldn't remember what it was.

"You're awake!" The voice was oddly familiar, as if she hadn't heard it on a long time, but had once known it very well. A strong pair of hands grabbed the blanket she was currently holding over her head and pulled tightly.

"Leave me alone," she said crossly, fighting back, refusing to relinquish the blankets to her captor. This wasn't her own apartment, and no matter who the stranger was, the revelation couldn't be good. She was willing to fight, even if her head still swam and the sudden movements in the tug-of-war game made her nauseous. Slowly she could feel her grip loosening and then, before she could protest, the blankets were ripped away from her body and tossed down somewhere. She didn't bother looking – she had chosen to cover her face with the pillow instead.

"Well," the strangerreplied, "you certainly don't want to get up this morning."

She heard the man take a step closer, and she tensed inwardly, trying her best to show no actual movement. This was only going to work if she caught her captor off guard. Taking a deep breath, counting the seconds until the man had placed his hands on the pillow, she released her grip and kicked out as hard as she could, connecting soundly with his legs. The force sent him stumbling backwards and she slid off the bed, landing in a defensive pose. "You're going to turn around and leave this room _without_ locking the door." She let magic creep into her voice, practically shoving it at the man, daring to look at her captor for the first time.

She fainted.

The second time she woke, she felt better. While there was still a tinge of pain, her headache had gotten a lot better, and it no longer hurt to move. She opened her eyes to a white ceiling, blinking the sleep away. Almost instantly, a glass of water was held out. She reached up a hand and took it, gulping it down. The water washed the strange taste out of her mouth and felt great. "Thank you," she murmured, her eyes still trained on the empty glass in her hands.

"Are you feeling any better?" She didn't want to look up. She didn't _dare_ look up. A hand caressed her forehead and smoothed her hair, a well-practiced and comforting gesture. She hadn't been cared for like that in _years_.

"Yes," she mumbled, pulling up the covers nearly to her chin, scooting back against the headboard, in an effort to form some sort of barrier, some sort of protection. "Much better."

"I'm glad," the voice replied gently, before two fingers were placed underneath her chin and caused her to look up. She considered fighting it, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. If it really _was_ him – and she wasn't sure whether the possibility that it was him or the possibility that it _wasn't_ him scared her the most – fighting him would be useless. If it wasn't… well, there was no point in hiding her gaze.

"You must have hit your head harder than we thought." His eyes were familiar, at least. And his touch… the minimal contact of his fingers was enough to reawaken feelings long buried. She wanted to deny that it was him. She wanted to shove him away and get out and figure out what the hell had happened since kissing Alec's cheek when they said good-bye. She wanted… She wanted it so much to be him.

But it couldn't be.

No matter how much she wanted him, no matter how much she might think she _needed _him… She had to keep her distance. It was for the best.

But _oh_, how her skin tingled with even the barest of touch. "Lee…" The name leaked out of her mouth unbidden and she heaved a sigh as he put an arm around her and pulled her closer.

"Are you sure you're all right?" He questioned, his expression worried. "Darling, you're making me really worried."

She didn't accuse him of not being real. She didn't accuse him of being an imposter. She merely tucked her head into his shoulder and sobbed. His arm tightened around her and he rocked her slowly, whispering, "Shh… everything is fine. You're okay."

"You're not supposed to be here," she finally choked out. "What happened last night? Why are you here?"

He cupped her cheeks with his hands and uses his thumbs to wipe away her tears. "You were attacked by wizards after meeting up with that enchanter, Alec. It was a set-up, and you fell right into the trap. I told you I should have come with you, but…" He trailed off and squeezed her gently, "we were surprised you made it back. You weren't in very good shape."

"The drink?" She questioned, torn between interrogating him and learning what had happened the night previously. She consciously ignored his comment about coming with her – it was completely absurd. He didn't even _know_ about the meet-up – at least he shouldn't have.

"There was a numbing agent in the drink, yes; a potion that we couldn't completely identify. It was too quick- working for us to analyze properly, which means it probably was in the Dormir family," he referenced the family of numbing and sleep potions that passed almost immediately through the bloodstream and left their victims feeling the effects nearly immediately.

"I…I had an antidote on me," she whispered, trying to remember. She _always_ took some form of antidote before meeting up with strangers just in case. Some might call her paranoid, but in her line of work it was common sense. Potions were an easy, impersonal way to deal with or dispose of someone quickly, and even the weakest of sorcerers were capable of coming up with undetectable poisons. Even the Anaweir used poisons – it was always best to be prepared. "Genevieve…" She trailed off, blinking.

"Where's Genevieve?" She sat up straighter, automatically putting a few inches distance between them.

"She's downstairs of course, dealing with the guests." He answered promptly, looking at her in confusion. "You know, I'm really worried about you, Linda."

"I'm fine," she wriggled out of his grasp and climbed out of bed. For the first time she realized she was wearing pajama pants and a tank- top, clothes she definitely had not been wearing last night. "What- _who_ dressed me?" She gasped out, plucking at the thing top, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

"I did, of course." Leander looked at her strangely. "Look, I think it's best if you lay down again."

"I'm not lying down again!" She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "And who gave _you_ the right to undress me?" She took another step away from him, her back towards the wall and the door. There was a dresser to the left, she noticed, with a few knickknacks that she might be able to throw at him. And a window on the other side of the bed – but she didn't want to risk climbing out of a second story or higher window and it didn't look like that the room was on the first story.

"You did." He looked – how dare he look _amused_. "Come on, Linda, you are obviously not well. Come back and lay down with me."

"_Where is Genevieve_?" She repeated, backing up enough so that her hand finally touched the doorknob. "Where are we?"

"We're at Genevieve's, remember?" He finally rose and stood by the side of the bed. "And I already told you – she's downstairs, dealing with guests." He took a step towards her. "Please, Linda –"

"Don't come any closer!" She shrieked. "What is going on? You're not supposed to be here!"

"I –" But, before he could say anymore, the door was pushed open from behind her, causing her to stumble forwards. In three strides he was at her side, pulling her up from the floor. "Love…" He sighed, hugging her close to him, before turning to face the door way.

She almost fainted again. The newest arrival was a small child, a boy, with dark curls and blue eyes that flashed to green. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a dog on the front, and carried both a rather raggedy bear and a book in his hands. He held up the book in the air. "Daddy, can read?"

She couldn't take it anymore; the tears started to fall again. Before she realized it, she was being carried back to the bed in a fireman's hold, and laid down on the covers. "My baby, my baby, my baby," she whispered, her voice clogged with tears.

"Mommy is sad?" Seph toddled over to her and tried to pull himself up on the bed. He would need to let go of the bear and the book to succeed, but he refused to, trying to switch hands or climb up while clutching them both. Two strong arms grasped him from behind and plopped him next to her. "Mommy can read." He held out the book to her, but instead of taking it, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.

"I love you so much," she whispered into his ear, wishing she never had to let go. His locks were soft and silky and he smelled like baby shampoo. He was so _small_, with hands that fit into her own palms. His feet were bare and tiny. He was…perfect. She had purposefully stayed away the last years, not daring to come around in case he remembered her. But now, seeing him here…she wondered what she had missed.

"Mommy can read," he repeated_**, **_louder this time. Then he paused. "I love you, Mommy." He prodded her with the book. "Daddy _and_ Mommy can read."

"Mommy's not feeling well, Sephy. I think maybe you and I should read and –" Lee spoke up from beside the bed.

"_No_," she protested. "No," she said in a calmer voice. "I can read. I _want_ to read."

"I think you should rest…" He trailed off after the glare she sent him. "All right," he gave in, perching on the end of the bed. "We'll all read together." Seph handed his father the book and Lee flipped it over to look at the title page, before smiling. "Well, this is going to be interesting."

"Let me see," Linda demanded, pushing herself up into a sitting position. "What is it?"

Wordlessly, he held up the book so that she could see the cover. It was bright red with a black binding and had an elephant holding a sign on its back on the cover. "It's _Babar_," she recognized it from her own childhood. "What's so interesting about Babar?"

"Babar, le petit elephant!" Seph bounced. "Babar!" He clutched his animal closer to him and she finally realized that it wasn't a bear as she had previously assumed, but a stuffed elephant, ragged from use.

"It's in French," Leander answered, his lips twisted into a smile. "And last I checked, you don't read French."

"I don't speak it either," she added, before realizing she had acted halfway civilized. Maybe… maybe this _was_ true. Maybe Lee really _had_ come back. And Seph… she knew it was dangerous to go to Genevieve for help last night, but she had had little choice. She had needed a healer _desperately_, and she knew that Genevieve was trustworthy and not far away.

Could she dare to hope?

"Yes, well, unfortunately _this_ little guy does." He grabbed Seph and pulled him into his lap, tickling his stomach. The little boy squirmed and laughed.

"Babar," he yelled, "Babar, Daddy!" Lee finally eased up on the tickling and released him.

"Oh, all right," he said, as if he were put out, but his eyes twinkled in a way that showed he wasn't upset in the very least. "Come on, let's read." He opened the book to the first page, and she let the words wash over her. Leander was very good with Seph, she decided – much better than she was. She had no idea what he was saying, but Seph apparently did, and she remembered belatedly that Genevieve had mentioned making sure he was just as fluent in French as he was in English. Of course, at two and a half, he probably wasn't very fluent in _any_ language yet – but at least he seemed to understand the story.

Lee used voices. He tickled Seph every so often, causing the boy to erupt in a fit of giggles. He made the elephant dance and he showed her the pictures every time he turned a page, even though she couldn't read the book herself. She remembered the story from when she was young and it was a comforting thought to know that her son enjoyed the same books she had read – or had been read to her as a child.

The ending was nearing when she could hear footsteps traveling outside of the door. "Joseph? Oú es-tu?" Lee paused in his reading and the three of them looked up at the door.

"He's in here, Genevieve!" He called out, before patting Seph's hair. "You better go." His eyes twinkled, "I think she has cookies."

Linda could barely blink before Seph was sliding off the bed and running for the door as fast as his little legs could carry him. The door wasn't shut all the way and it was easy for him to pull it open enough to slip through. "Cookie!" He yelled, "Evee has cookie!'

Lee shook his head chuckling as a torrent of French could be heard from the hallway. Linda wondered for a moment what Genevieve was saying, though through her tone and Lee's amusement, she doubted it was anything too pleasant. The door was then shut from the outside and the fall of footsteps meant that they were alone again. They turned to look at each other; she took in every single detail of his face, wondering, wishing, praying that it – that this entire morning was true. It had to be.

It would be too cruel if it wasn't.

"You seem to be doing better," he finally said, reaching out to stroke her hair again.

"I think I am," she allowed a smile to finally grace her lips. "I think I'm doing a lot better than I have been for a very long time."

"Oh, really?" He raised his brow, but his voice was flirtatious. "How do you mean?"

"Nothing," she merely answered, shaking her head. It didn't surprise her when he moved closer to her. "I'm just…" She tried to find the right words, "_relieved_." Nor did it surprise her when the hand that had been stroking her hair moved down to her neck and pulled her closer to him.

"Relieved?" He answered, but she could tell the answer hadn't really made it through to him. Instead he seemed more interested in putting his arms around her, resting his forehead against her own. "In what way?"

"Does it matter?" She quipped, and almost immediately following the answer, he placed his lips on her. The kiss wasn't particularly passionate; it was more sensual, more a reminder of what they had – what they had had. She kissed back, lightly drawing his lower lip out and nibbling it gently. A laugh emerged in the back of his throat, and suddenly he was pushing her down onto the bed.

He ran his hands up and down her arms while she granted him entrance to her mouth. Their tongues met and she relished the idea of kissing him again. Eventually they broke the kiss and they stared at each other, panting lightly. "I'd say you feel better," he joked, caressing her cheek.

She simply smiled up at him, before putting her arms around his neck and drawing him down to her again. She lightly pecked his lips, before kissing around his face. His eyes closed and he looked so _peaceful_ – a peace she rarely saw him portray. Finally she returned to his lips, this time pressing hard. His eyes opened once again, full of fire.

"I love you," she gasped against his lips as he kissed forcibly back. "I love you so much."

"I-" He started to answer, but she could hear no more. The world was spinning, growing blurry. She felt sick again, possibly worse than before. She struggled and her movements were bogged down by something covering her. She thrashed around even more, fighting to get free. "_Lee_," she cried out, "Leander!"

"Shh…" It was a different voice, though also familiar. She opened her eyes, blinking away the fog in her vision and saw a tall blonde woman leaning over her. "You're going to be all right."

"Genevieve?" She squinted in the dim light of the room. "What –"

"You were badly injured, Linda. You're lucky to be alive. " The woman placed a cool cloth on her forehead and propped her up. "Drink this." Linda accepted the clear liquid – but it wasn't water this time. The taste was salty, but with an underlying flavor she couldn't place. She made a face, but drank it all.

"What –" She began, but Genevieve shushed her.

"Something that will make you feel better quickly." The woman sighed. "It was very touch and go – I wasn't sure if you were going to make it at first. You were in _terrible_ condition – I don't know how you managed to get here. And you've been out for nearly an entire day."

"Lee," she gasped out, "Seph."

"Seph is asleep in his room. Don't worry – he has no idea that you're here, and even if he did, I'd tell him that you are a guest that fell ill. And Lee…" The sorcerer gave her a stern look, "If you're talking about Leander Hastings, I have no idea where he is. He's not here, certainly."

"But…" She tried to sit up, push the covers off of her, stand. But Genevieve was having none of it. The other woman pushed her back into the bed and covered her up once more. "But… he was here," she insisted, her voice barely above a whisper. "He cared for me and then he read Babar to Seph in French and then you came and Seph went with you to get cookies… and he kissed me…" She trailed off, becoming more and more unsure of herself.

"It wasn't just a dream, Genevieve. It _couldn't_ be." She looked up at her imploringly. "Tell me it wasn't."

Genevieve looked down at her with a sad smile, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Linda. You were very sick and you had a concussion and a fever. It's not surprising that you hallucinated. Though," she paused for a moment, "Seph does quite enjoy the book, _Historie de Babar_. I don't know _how_ you knew that."

The two of them fell into silence as Genevieve tidied up the nightstand, which was covered with potions and herbs and bandages. "I can give you a phone, if you'd like," the sorcerer finally spoke up. "If – if you want to call Joseph's father." There was something in her voice that almost sounded like hurt. "And you're welcome to see Joseph in the morning. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to see you."

Linda merely stared straight ahead, her hands clutching the blankets around her neck. After a few moments of silence, Genevieve stood up and left, returning a few minutes later with a telephone. She silently plugged it into the jack on the wall behind the nightstand. "It's for you, if you want to," she said, before turning and leaving the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

She had his number memorized. It was force of habit, and she claimed that if there was ever an emergency and she needed his help, she needed to be able to call him without the delay of looking up his phone number in her address book. She could easily call him – the phone was in her reach. And several times during the night, she found her hand reaching towards it, as if it were a magnet she couldn't break free of.

But in the morning, she still had not called. The dawn had broken and birds were chattering outside the window. She took a deep breath, preparing herself, and sat up fully. She still had a headache, but it was minor compared to how she felt yesterday, and she believed she could stand up.

There were clothes in roughly her size laid out on a chair across the room. Gingerly making her way towards them, she paused by the phone, but continued onwards. Slipping them on, she sent one last look towards the phone.

It would be so _easy_ to dial his number. And oh, she _wanted_ to hear his voice again. But – she had betrayed him. She had left him and she had hid their son from him and what would she _say_ once she had him on the phone? "I'm sorry, I still love you, you're a father?" And it still wasn't safe. The attack the night before had been proof of that. She still didn't know all the details, but it didn't matter.

There was no way she could bring up a child in that kind of life.

It was too dangerous to both her and to Seph – and to Lee, even if he never knew about their son. Somehow Seph's parentage would get out, if she associated herself too closely with her son. It was best to keep a difference.

And that's why, with a heavy heart, she dressed herself and gathered up her few belongings stacked on the dresser. With barely a sound, she opened the door and, after making sure the hall was clear, slipped outside. It was so early, none of the other guests were awake and she was easily able to journey downstairs and out the door.

She didn't even pause to look back.


End file.
